Fall
by lumpragamuffin
Summary: One-shot. AU HPDM slash OOC. Though Harry Potter has gained immense power, he has finally lost more than he could handle.


Rather unnecessary disclaimers: I am not receiving any monetary gain from this and do not own anything in the Harry Potter world. JKR did not write this plot.

Warning: slash (meaning boy on boy action for those of you who are out of the loop)

* * *

I was no longer Harry Potter.

It was my seventh year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and, though my looks were a continuous stream into adulthood, inside, I was not the same person.

I was no longer a boy in any way, really. At seventeen, I returned to school still slightly shorter than average, still rather thin, but I was a man. I could see it in the way those around treated me; I could see that they feared that bit of darkness that tinged my olive eyes.

Cherubic, Hermione had once called me.

No one would see me in that light any longer. I was encased in a chilling ice. Apathy. Indifference. That's how I appeared to those around. But it was worse than that. Intertwined with my chilling numbness was a pain that consumed all of my being.

I was frozen.

Everyone else was moving on. Everyone hustled and bustled through their lives. Many had lost, and they hurt from it, but they continued living. And they were happy once again. They no longer feared Voldemort or his minions.

But I could not move on. Ron was gone – forever. I woke up every morning, still expecting him to be asleep in _his_ bed across from mine. And then it would dawn on me: he was gone. It no longer _was_ his bed.

He had died because I, the great Harry Potter, could not save him. "The Boy-Who-Lived Saves the World," the papers all claimed. I saved the world, but I failed to save my own best friend. Lost were my parents, my god-father, and my best friend.

And yet, I lived on.

It was due to Ron's death that I defeated Voldemort. Dumbledore had been wrong all along. It wasn't love that saved me or the wizarding world: it was hatred and pain.

Ron had followed me to the very end. At the final battle at Godric's Hollow, he had been by my side, ready to fight to the death. Voldemort saw my weakness. He had seen my mind and had understood what I loved. He knew that the best way to weaken me was to take away what was most important in my life: my friendship, my happiness, my family. Ron was all three. He was the perfect target. But his plan to weaken me backfired.

I saw every second of Ron's death in haunting detail. I knew that, for the rest of my life, not a day would pass in which I would not remember.

The gleam in Voldemort's eye was black and cold – a telling premonition of my own future state. Some believe that all the world interacts in a complex system with everyone and everything affecting all else that exists. I could commiserate with that idea.

I saw the blood-lust in those dark eyes as he looked onto my best friend. The nauseating detail of the memory alone causes my body to tense up in pain.

Voldemort drew out his wand – the twin of my own. Time slowed down as I realized his intent. I called Ron's name and he looked toward me, utter terror upon his features.

I screamed and leapt forward. I wanted to shield his body with my own. I had lost too much already. And there could be no greater pain than the loss of my closest friend.

Ron had a bright future with his fiancé – Hermione; he had a family who loved him. I had neither. His life was of more value to me than mine ever was.

But he was too far. I couldn't reach him.

Green light shrouded his figure. His face was forever locked into that hideous expression of panic.

I watched his body fall to the ground. I stared as he crumpled into a limp pile, lifeless in the dirt.

And something inside of me snapped. I felt everything and nothing. I was alive and dead, hot and cold, flying and falling, disconnected from everyone, and connected to everything there ever was. I could not see or feel exactly what happened, but from the account of those who were far enough away to survive it, silver light burst from my body. Kingsley Shacklebolt later told me that I was lifted off the ground by my own powers. I hovered and the silver stream of magic exploded from inside of me, covering all the surrounding area. When it was over, it was as though I had awoken into a fog. Voldemort lay, lifeless, mere metres from Ron's body. I was disgusted.

All else was a haze. Aurors swiftly found me after my magic had died down. They transported me to the ministry, then to Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey kept me for a week. She was convinced there was something wrong, but she could find nothing. She was right, but what was wrong with me, she had no ability to fix.

Since that day though, my powers had been "unstable." Or, at least, that was what the papers and gossip had said. I was actually quite in control of my powers. But they feared me. Everyone feared me to some extent, even my few friends.

I no longer needed a wand or even incantations to use magic. I could bend the world with my will alone. At Hogwarts, to try to quell the fears spread by the media, I pretended to need the use of my wand and spells. Hermione insisted that I do it, but I was beginning to see no point in pretending.

It took too much effort to feign being normal, being OK. It took so much effort not to make an effort.

* * *

It was Sunday morning and I was eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table. The majority of my housemates chatted cheerily. Lately everyone had been light and carefree. It was ironic that I, the number one target of the Dark Lord, was the worst off after he was defeated.

For most of the meal, no one attempted talking to me. People generally avoided me like the plague. They could sense the icy darkness that covered me.

Unexpectedly, Ginny tried to tunnel through it. "Harry?" she asked me, sounding nervous.

"Yes?" I asked back, sounding as ambivalent as always. I wasn't ambivalent though, I was irritated.

"I was… it's just. Harry, I'm worried about you."

"Don't," was all I replied.

She glanced around the room, obviously trying to summon some courage to continue the conversation. I saw her eyes flit across the three other house tables and the professors' table before making their way back to me. "I can't help it. You've been so… distant. Harry, you know we all miss-"

"Just drop it, Ginny," I commanded.

My tone was threatening, but brave (and stupid) as ever, she plowed on, "_I_ miss him too, Harry, but Ron isn't coming back, and you need to accept that and… get well again."

I glared. I could feel my magic swirling up around me. I needed to leave, if not for my own sake, at least for hers.

"Mind your own business," I growled at her.

Abruptly, I stood. I walked jerkily to the door. Although my entire being exuded anger, no one could see it when looking at me. Nothing melted the ice that now consumed "The Great" Harry Potter.

I climbed my way to one of the highest towers at Hogwarts – a forbidden tower that hadn't been in use for a century.

The day was deceiving in its beauty. The sky was light blue and cloudless. The sun poured its warmth onto my face, but I didn't feel it. I stood at the edge of the tower, looking down to the ground.

I had never feared heights very much, and practicing Quidditch had alleviated any slight discomfort I might have felt before. I climbed atop the edge of the tower. The stone was thick enough for me to stand on comfortably, but the wind at that height caused my slight body to wobble dangerously back and forth. Just a moment of imprecision, and I would fall to my death. But as of late, I wasn't even sure _that_ would kill me. It's not as though I felt invincible, but I had the feeling that my magic would save me. And really, I didn't find that a comforting thought.

As I watched the Forbidden Forest from my vantage point, I heard a shuffling behind me. I instantly knew someone had followed me. I had never encountered another soul – not even one of the ghosts – when I escaped to that tower.

It incensed me that someone would tail me without even making him or herself known. I did not want to be gawked at or spied on.

I jumped down from the ledge to find that the door connecting the tower to the castle was ajar.

Draco Malfoy stood next to it.

Casually leaning against the stone wall of the tower, he looked at me, curiosity clear on his face. His eyes were mercurial – beautiful, lethal. And in that moment, I felt an intense rage overtake my senses.

I threw out my hand, flinging my magic at him. His tall form flew backward, smacking into the stone wall of the tower. I flicked my hand upward and his body responded in like form; he floated a metre from the ground.

I stalked toward him as a predator sizing up its prey.

"Why are you here?" I hissed under my breath.

His body looked uncomfortable, suspended in the air but his face betrayed no such feeling. "You," was his only reply.

I lowered him with my fingertips so that his feet were touching the ground, but I kept my hold of him against the wall. His limbs were spread apart; he looked like a doll suspended in a sickening imitation of a dance. The sun shone upon his feathery blonde hair, causing it to gleam, which deepened the affect. He was my puppet with which to do as I pleased. I felt nauseous at my own power.

His eyes challenged me. He did not look afraid, which surprised me, but didn't lessen my anger.

"So the rumors concerning your magic are true," he intoned lightly.

"So they are," I replied.

He smirked, "What else can you do?"

I couldn't believe his audacious demeanor. I was murderous.

I flicked my fingers at him so that his limbs would fall from the awkward position. Without any motion of my body, I willed the door leading down the tower to slam shut and lock. I crept toward him with animosity plain on my features.

His eyes widened, but still not in fear. He was intrigued, excited.

I wanted him to feel as I felt. I willed it to happen. I had never tried it before – I had never desired it, but my hatred and pain had grown to its limit and it was all directed at Malfoy. I wanted him to turn to ice as I had.

I moved even closer to him – our noses were almost touching.

He shivered violently, "Wh-what.. h-h-have you d-done-ne to mee?"

"You wanted to see me, right? See what I've become?" I asked him, venom thick in my words.

He nodded shakily.

"Well, now I've shown you what I am, Malfoy," I spat.

Now free from my bind, he stepped forward, jerky from the coldness he felt. I stepped back, avoiding the contact he seemed to be craving. I did not want to ease the pain of the ice.

He tried again – and like a dance, I stepped back once more.

"L-let m-me," he commanded. His voice was shaky from the cold he felt, but his body language was confident. He still held no fear of me.

And once more, he stepped toward me. But this time, I didn't back away.

I felt feral in my hostility. I glowered at him, "I hate you," and I meant it to my core.

His expression did not change in the slightest as he replied, "I know."

"No you don't – I fucking hate you! I hate… everything!" I incoherently screamed into his face.

His perfectly shaped eyebrow arched up as he continued to look into my eyes. His flawless skin shone, pale, under the brightness of the sun. But despite its warm rays, he continued shivering from the iciness my magic instilled in him.

"What do you want from me?" I finally muttered, feeling defeated.

He rested his hand on the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair. Then, suddenly he pulled me toward him. I didn't have time to react when his lips claimed mine. I struggled to get away, but he was stronger than I was.

Physically, he was stronger. But magically, I was.

I flicked my fingers and his body flung off of me back a metre. I held his body in place yet again and sprang toward him.

My lips crashed violently onto his. I forced my tongue into his mouth and realized that he tasted delicious. I pushed him up against the tower wall and he helplessly complied as he was still bound. I moved my mouth down to his neck and sucked and bit him – turning his creamy skin dark pink.

I growled wildly, "Is this what you want?"

I released him from his bind and stepped back, horrified at myself.

He lunged at me. "No! _This_ is what I want," and he grabbed my body, roughly shoving himself against me.

I groaned with pleasure as he rutted his erection against mine.

He bit my earlobe, and murmured into my ear, "Just let go."

His hand snaked up underneath my shirt and he ran his fingers down my abdomen, slowly, agonizingly.

I whimpered, "Please…"

He kissed a line down my jaw until his lips connected with mine once more. His tongue urgently pushed its way into my mouth and danced with my own. As he did this, his deft fingers loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt.

My hands weren't as dexterous as his though, so I magicked his tie and shirt open. He broke his mouth from mine and smirked down at my handiwork. His eyes then clouded over with lust.

"Take off the rest," he commanded me, sounding slightly out of breath.

I reached down to unbutton his pants until he grabbed my hand. "No. With your magic."

My face melted into a smile. It felt strange, almost painful, after having gone so long without using that particular facial expression. But that he wasn't repulsed by my powers – it was such a wonderful feeling – I couldn't help smiling.

I stepped back and took in his form. His silver eyes shone with intensity as he watched me. His skin glowed, milky white and immaculate. A faint trail of pale-blonde hairs ran down below his navel. I felt my erection press tightly against the fabric of my trousers as I examined his body.

I magicked the rest of his clothing off of him and was instantly stunned by his beauty. I had never experienced desire like I did when I first saw Malfoy naked. I wanted to feel all of him. I needed to claim him as my own.

From the look in his eyes, I could tell he felt the same way. The tables had turned as he stalked toward me – _I _was _his_ prey.

He leaned down and took my nipple into his mouth as he unbuttoned my own pants. I leant my head backward and moaned as he flicked it with his tongue. Ever so slowly, he removed my trousers. I sighed with relief when my erection was no longer constrained by the fabric.

He gave a devilish smirk that caused me to catch my breath. He then drawled in a husky voice, "I want you, Harry."

Hearing him utter my given name sent shivers down my body. Those shivers had nothing to do with the ice. The heat he gave off melted it and all that was left in its place was a burning fire. I quite desperately needed his touch.

"Then take me," I replied, my anticipation building to astronomical heights.

He turned me around and pushed me against the tower wall. We were both entirely naked, but the combination of the sun's rays and our entwined bodies kept us warm.

I felt his erection against me and I tensed up in expectation.

He reached around my body and held my stiffness in his hand. His warmth took me over as he started rubbing over my cock again and again.

While continuing his ministrations, he began entering me, his cock coated in lubrication that I easily magicked.

Flashes of light erupted in front of my irises from the pain of him pushing inside of me. I grit my teeth as my body adjusted to his penetration.

He grunted, "Fuck. So – hot. Uhng!"

I felt him holding himself back from bucking into me as I'm sure he wanted to do. His grip tightened around my erection as he stroked me and I moaned, "Don't stop – just… _harder_!"

He obeyed my command and forced himself farther into me.

More sparks flew into my vision in reaction to the pain, but I enjoyed every second of it.

Malfoy moved himself faster and faster inside of me, keeping his hand at the same tempo the whole time.

I shouted out in a mixture of pleasure and pain as he ground himself into me. At times, I couldn't tell the two sensations apart. He was breaking me and mending me over and over. I split into two, then reconnected in an incredible, blinding pleasure. I was nothing and everything and back again. I felt myself flying, turning, racing, slipping, falling.

Finally, finally, as he brushed against my prostate, all I knew was the vast nirvana I felt. There was nothing in the entire universe but Draco Malfoy and his intense heat that encircled my being. I shuddered as I felt myself spill over, my seed coating Malfoy's hand.

His own release quickly followed. He bucked into me one last time as I felt his body tense up. He let out a satisfied hiss behind my right ear as his body collapsed onto mine in exhaustion.

I turned around and stepped away from him. His murky-grey eyes shot up to me as I fumbled with my clothes.

Coldness. I felt it wash over me once again and it was more horrible than it had been before because I had finally, for the first time in many many months, felt something other than that despicable sensation. I had let go and felt something unbelievable: warmth.

Switching back and forth was terrifying and left me raw.

I turned away from Malfoy. Feeling disgusted with myself, I rushed to put my clothes back on.

I refused to look at him, hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone. I wanted my solitude back. I wanted to freeze into secluded detachment.

His hand rested on my shoulder, warm, strong.

I growled at him, "Go away."

"No," he replied, quite firmly.

I turned back to him so that I could force his departure, and I met his gaze. He looked determined, decided. I didn't care. "Leave me _now_," I vehemently commanded.

He smirked at me, "I know you don't really want me to."

I was infuriated, "Of course I want you to leave. You think I give a fuck that we just shagged? Now bugger off!"

He leant his body on the tower wall behind him, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. "If you want me to leave, then make me."

I stared at him. "You are really going to be that immature about this? What, can't you handle rejection, Malfoy?" I spat back miserably.

He just looked at me, giving me no verbal response.

I turned away from him again and stared out at the Forbidden Forest, imagining all the creatures living, moving, breathing within its shade. And for some reason, it comforted me.

"What makes you so certain that I don't want you to leave, Malfoy?" I asked. My voice sounded tired even to my own ears.

I didn't look at him to watch him as he replied; instead I kept my eyes on the darkness inside the forest. "You aren't cold when I'm near you," he said. His words were so simple, his inflection so sure.

All I could think to say was, "And how would you even know that?"

I could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice, "Because as soon as I kissed you, _I_ stopped being cold. You didn't mean to do that, did you? You didn't even notice that you stopped your spell. I know I make it go away for you too."

I heard him walk a few steps toward me, but I couldn't let him get any closer. I spun around and held up my hand in front of me, shielding myself from him. He stopped in his tracks – unable to move – due to my magic.

"What do _you_ want from me, Malfoy? What's in it for you?"

He suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at me, "Other than bragging rights for finally topping famous Harry Potter in something?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy," I snapped, glaring at him.

His maddening smirk wouldn't leave his face, "Don't be so touchy."

I released him from the spot in which I had been holding him and he continued walking toward me.

"Please stop," I quietly begged him.

He stopped a few steps from me. We stood staring at one another for what felt like a very long time. Finally, I started to feel awkward, so I glanced away.

He burst out a laugh, effectively destroying the awkward silence that had held us.

"What's so funny?" I asked without meeting his eyes.

"Heroic, Brave, Wonder-Boy Harry Potter is too shy to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds? God, Potter. You are so daft." He walked toward me the last few steps. I felt his light breath on my cheek. I was annoyed with his diatribe, and never one to back down from a challenge, I pushed my chin out and met his gaze. "Harry," he whispered, his tone almost reverent. I was so surprised at that tone of voice used by him – especially directed toward me, that all I could do was continue listening. "Have you ever considered that maybe I'm up here because I really do want you?"

"You… want me?" I shivered.

He brushed his lips against mine – not quite a kiss, but the contact was invigorating nonetheless.

"Unequivocally," he whispered only just loud enough for me to hear.

I tried to step back, but I was already pressed against the tower's ledge. I mused on how easy it would be for me to fall over that ledge. I could step backward; I could submerge myself in icy confinement once more. It was the easy way out – ignoring life, holding my grief close to myself.

But I was Harry Potter once more. And I was never one to take the easy way out.

I stepped forward, into the warmth of the sun's rays, into Draco Malfoy's arms. I stepped forward toward life, never forgetting my sadness and loss, but never letting it consume me again.

And I was warm.

* * *

So this is my little one-shot distraction. I had the idea for this and didn't want to wait until I finished my main fic (Le Plus Lumineux) to write this down. I would probably have forgotten it by then, you know?

Oh, and for anyone who was wondering where in the world Harry's powers came from, I just imagined them as the combination of being Gryffindor's heir (I still love that idea!) and the Salazar Slytherin powers Voldemort accidentally instilled in Harry. Also… Harry is just awesomeness incarnate.

Anyway, hope you liked it!


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